18 Paper Airplanes
by KoteSkirata
Summary: This is my take on a different partner for Hawkeye, a more human character that I felt I could believe in more than the Black Widow. Just read the author's notes, I hate writing summaries. And note that this does not tie in to my Riven stories.
1. Airplane 1

**Hello, everyone. This is a short story that is the result of me listening to certain songs too many times. The ideas ganged up on me, and for some reason I write very well when I'm sick.**

**I've been reading lots of stories about Hawkeye and Black Widow meeting for the first time, and I was getting really annoyed with the Black Widow. On one hand, she's a great character. On the other, I just don't like her. She's so . . . inhuman. No, really.**

**So I dreamed up a more human assassin, a different partner for Hawkeye. One who I can actually believe in.**

**In case you haven't already figured it out, this does not tie in to my Riven stories ****_at all. _****And I effectively eliminated the Black Widow entirely, not to mention I have written a very different version of Hawkeye than the one I wrote for my Riven stories. This is set before the movie, and it's a different format than usual for me. I hope you like it, and I'll shut up now so you can read the story.**

**Disclaimer: I'm only going to say this once: I don't own Hawkeye, just Erian.**

**Enjoy!**

**K.S.**

Airplane #1

Erian Ross was tired, and her feet hurt. It was dark, and raining, and her formerly starched white blouse was ruined. The high collar had wilted, and her black skirt was soaked. Her black tights were thoroughly saturated with warm rain, and the sidewalk was splattered with puddles.

She was walking back to her apartment from her rehearsal, and she was exhausted. Erian's throat hurt from contesting the soprano lead, and the black heels were killing her.

But it was a warm rain, and she didn't mind being wet. Erian paused in the faint, coppery glow of the streetlights, and took off her shoes. She stripped off her tights and stuffed them in one shoe, and then continued down the sidewalk, carrying her high-heeled shoes in one hand. Erian took great private pleasure in stepping in each puddle in her path, soaking her aching feet to ease the pain.

She smiled at the warmth, and raised her arms over her head, twirling under a streetlight, barefoot and brilliant in the lonely, late-night rainstorm. Erian's waves of golden brown hair were melting out of their pins and running down her back, leaving hairpins scattered behind her as she walked.

Out of the darkness, a small white paper airplane soared toward her. The tiny glider was beaten by the rain, wet drops splattering across its surface and driving it to the ground. Erian watched the paper plane in fascination as it alighted just in front of her.

Her quick fingers darted out and rescued the paper plane from a puddle, and Erian paused, soaking her feet in the water as she gently unfolded the soaked plane. Her dark eyes widened in surprise, and she stared about her in alarm.

Erian could see no one. Rain fell in sheets, reflecting the metallic glow of the streetlights and obscuring her surroundings. She knew where she was, of course, but that's not what worried her. After a moment of hesitation, Erian began to run, and didn't slow down until she had reached her apartment.

Written in the paper airplane was the word _Hello._


	2. Airplane 2

Airplane #2

Erian was in her apartment, just getting out of a hot shower. It was the day after the rainstorm and the paper airplane, and she'd all but banished it from her mind.

She wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom, stepping lightly across the wood floors to the kitchen. Erian set a kettle of water on the stove to boil, and began shaking tea leaves into a pot. She needed this cup of tea. Rehearsals were getting brutal, with her understudy on the point of stooping to sabotage in an attempt to win the lead away from Erian.

Erian couldn't afford to lose the lead – she needed this role. Needed it badly, because how else could she kill the other lead?

It was quite simple, really. Erian's job was to kill the actor playing her opposing lead. Therefore, she had to keep the female lead in order to get close to the male lead.

It was a very good thing Erian could sing well.

She finished brewing the tea, poured herself a cup, and sank into the sofa with a grateful sigh, relaxing in the head of the tea. It felt good. She needed to relax.

It wasn't raining tonight, so Erian had left the window open far enough for the sounds of traffic to lull her into sleep, assuming she actually went to bed. From the amount of planning she had left to do, that was quite the assumption.

As Erian breathed in the scent of her raspberry tea, a paper airplane sailed through the window and landed in her lap. She blinked down at it, uncomprehending, and set down her tea cup.

Carefully, Erian unfolded the plane, and gasped.

This plane was folded out of newspaper – to be specific, the obituary page of a newspaper from seven years back, when Erian had been 15.

The article read:

**Kirbee Ann Barney was found murdered yesterday in a field behind Rowan Street. She was stabbed with a knife, and there were signs of a struggle. The police are investigating thoroughly, and the entire community is mourning the death of such a lovely, clever, and vivacious young woman, beloved by all who knew her.**

Erian's hands were still, but her heart rate jumped and her breathing became more difficult. She closed her brown eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, they were bright with rage.

She crumpled the obituary to nothing in her hand, and stood. Erian walked to the window, and said fiercely into the midnight air, "Who are you? What do you want?"

There was no answer, and Erian breathed in the scent of the night, feeling her pulse racing against her skin.

"I hate you already," she whispered, and closed the window.


	3. Airplanes 3 and 4

Airplanes #3 and #4

The very next evening, Erian stepped out of her shower and brushed out her wavy hair, slipping a blue nightdress over her head. She stretched for a moment, feeling sore muscles relax. Erian made her way out of the bathroom and sat down on the sofa in the same place she had the night before, and waited. She wasn't disappointed.

Within minutes, a paper airplane soared through her window and landed in her lap. Erian's mouth tightened as she unfolded it, and she frowned as she read the words written there:

_I know who you are._

Erian closed her eyes and sighed. Anger accomplished nothing, and she needed more sleep than she was currently getting. Without opening her eyes, Erian said quietly, "I know you can hear me. What do you want from me?"

A few seconds later, another airplane sailed through her window. Erian plucked it out of the air and unfolded it quickly.

_Talk to me. Tomorrow night, on the roof._

Erian blinked at the letter. She hadn't expected that so soon. Erian had known from the first what the airplanes were about – mostly. She'd never expected the agent who came to kill her to communicate using paper planes.

But . . . _talk to me_? Erian didn't understand.

"I'll be there," she said quietly, and went to bed without closing the window.


	4. Airplanes 5 and 6

Airplanes #5 and #6

Erian didn't shower the next night. It was getting cold outside, and she wasn't about to stand on the roof in the middle of the night with wet hair. Erian couldn't afford to get sick now – opening night was only a few days away.

She wrapped herself up in a dark grey coat, and climbed out her window onto the fire escape. Undaunted by the darkness, Erian climbed unerringly up the ladder to the roof. Once there, she sat down on the very edge, letting her feet dangle off the roof.

Erian only had to wait a few minutes before a small paper airplane sailed gracefully out of the night and landed in her lap. She unfolded it with a small smile. It said simply, _Hello._

"You're repeating yourself," she replied, and heard a footstep behind her. Erian stared unblinking out at the city lights that burned in the night, and continued, "And who I am is no great secret."

"Actually, it is." The voice was decidedly male, and full of confidence.

Erian sighed softly, and clasped her hands in her lap, swinging her feet in the air. "Not really. Everyone knows my name."

"Erian Ross, yes. The Ghostmaker. But I know who you really are." Erian tilted her head to one side as the voice continued, "I know that you drink tea and like raspberry truffles. Your favorite color is blue, you read spy thrillers and love the movie _Casablanca_, and you killed your best friend when you were fifteen. And I know your secret."

Erian felt him walk across the roof until he was within arm's reach of her. She let out a long breath, and relaxed, waiting for the inevitable.

"You don't care anymore if you live or die."

Erian froze. That was _not _what she'd been expecting. Erian slowly stood, turning to face the man behind her. He was taller than her, with brown hair and storm-colored eyes. She recognized him.

"You know nothing about me," Erian said softly.

He shook his head. "I know everything about you. You don't care anymore. You used to be the Ghostmaker – but now you're only a Ghost."

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. "Then kill me," Erian whispered. "I know that's why you're here."

He reached out and gently lifted her chin with one hand. "No. I was sent to kill you. But I'm here to save you."

Fury flashed in Erian's eyes, and she moved, seizing his hand and spinning him. In a moment, she had him pinned, with his back to her and his arm twisted backwards, obviously causing him pain. Erian didn't bother to worry about his other hand. She knew he wouldn't try anything. Not now.

Leaning forward so that her lips were close to his hear, she hissed, "You know _nothing,_ Agent Barton. Go back to SHIELD and leave me alone, before I make a Ghost out of you."

With a flick of her wrist, Erian released him while shoving him away from her at the same time. Barton backed away from her, eyes on hers. Erian glared at him, feeling something inside her tremble, even as her hands shook with anger.

Barton asked in curious tone, "What did she do? Your best friend – why did you kill her?"

Erian made a sort of hissing noise, and said warningly, "Barton, if you're still here in fifteen seconds, I'm going to give you the Ghostmaker's Kiss."

He nodded respectfully, turned, and jumped off the edge of the roof.

Erian didn't bother to see if he'd landed all right. It was none of her concern, and she didn't care. All she had to do was get her job done, and then Erian could take a long vacation and pretend she was still a normal young woman.

She made her way back down the fire escape and through the window, changing into her nightgown and crawling into bed. Erian lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, not wanting to turn off the light.

A paper airplane sailed through her open window and landed on the bed. Erian stared at it for a long moment before sighing and unfolding it.

_Sorry._

"Bastard," Erian muttered, and turned off the light.


	5. Airplane 7

Airplane # 7

Erian returned to her apartment the following evening, exhausted and angry to the point of tears. She'd hung on to the alto lead – barely. Her understudy was becoming vicious, and Erian was the target of that venom.

She sank onto her sofa with a sigh that was more like a cry of relief, and began rubbing one of her feet. God, the stupid shoes were killing her. Erian might be permanently crippled if she had to keep wearing the accursed things.

Erian didn't even realize that she was sitting _right there _on the sofa until there was a paper airplane in her lap. She moaned, and closed her eyes. Maybe he would just go away . . .

But Erian knew better than that. And Barton wasn't about to go away. She unfolded the airplane.

_Tough day?_

"You have no idea," she sighed, and leaned back into the sofa. Erian didn't want to deal with Barton right now, she really didn't. She just didn't have the energy.

There was a tap at the frame of the open window, and Erian glanced over to see Barton leaning on the window frame, arms crossed. "Evening," he said pleasantly. "You don't look too good."

"Thanks," Erian replied sarcastically. "That's just what every girl dreams of hearing from the agent sent to kill her."

Barton shrugged. "Technicalities."

Erian smiled in spite of herself. "Nice." She eyed him standing on the fire escape, and asked, "The window's open. Why didn't you just come in?"

"I didn't want to invade your privacy."

Erian's eyebrows jumped almost to her hairline. "My _privacy_? You're supposed to kill me, and you're worried about my privacy?"

Barton shrugged again, and Erian watched the muscles in his shoulders move. "I'm an assassin. That doesn't mean I have to be a rude assassin."

Erian laughed. She tipped her head back and studied the ceiling, smiling at the thought of a polite assassin. "I don't know," she replied. "I think it would be more polite to kill someone in their apartment than in a street somewhere."

"Like Kirbee?"

She stopped smiling. Erian turned her head to look at Barton, whose eyes darkened when he saw the look on her face. "Barton," Erian said softly, "I'm not up for this right now. Either kill me or go away."

"All right. Goodnight, Erian."

And to her disbelief, Barton left, swinging off the fire escape into the darkness.


	6. Airplane 8

Airplane #8

Erian was walking back to her apartment in the dark, carrying her shoes. As she rounded a corner onto a block without streetlights, two men in masks stepped out in front of her. Erian glanced over her shoulder to see a third man behind her.

"All right," one of them growled, "Give us your money."

Erian shrugged. "I don't have any."

He glared at her. "You asked for it." And he came at her with a knife.

Erian grinned, and dropped her high-heeled shoes to the sidewalk. She knew knives. Knives were _her _weapons.

And there was a reason Erian Ross was better known as the Ghostmaker.

Erian lightly plucked the switchblade out of the man's hand, and kicked him in the back of the knee, dropping him to the ground. The man from behind her attacked, and Erian drew a second knife from under her shirt, spinning gracefully to lean close and plant a kiss on his cheek – at the same time as she slit his throat.

She did the same to the other two, kissing and killing them. The Ghostmaker wiped her knives on the shirt of one of the men, and tucked the blades away. She picked up her shoes and continued walking back to her apartment.

Erian had only gone another block when a paper airplane swooped towards her. She caught and unfolded it with one hand.

_I'm impressed._

"That's nice," Erian replied. "I suppose you knew they were going to do that."

"Yes, I did." Barton dropped out of a tree to land next to her. Erian didn't react, and he began walking alongside her. "You didn't have to kill them."

Erian gave him an amused glance. "Oh no?"

"No. You could have let them go."

"I could have." Erian's face darkened. "I didn't want to."

Barton didn't speak for a while, and then said quietly, "So that was the Ghostmaker's Kiss."

Erian kept her eyes on the sidewalk, carefully picking her way through the cold night in her bare feet. "Yes."

After a few moments of silence, Barton asked, "Where'd you pull that knife from, anyway?"

Erian involuntarily looked down at her shirt, instantly away of the small knife she kept in her bra. "None of your business, Barton."

He grinned. "That's where I thought you kept it."

There was another pause, broken by Barton asking, "May I walk you home?"

Erian cast him a sideways glance. "You already are."

He shrugged. "It's always safer to ask."

She stopped walking and put her hands on her hips, turning to face him. "What kind of assassin are you, Agent Barton?" Erian demanded.

He smiled ruefully. "One who doesn't want to kill his mark."

Erian pressed her lips together, but before she could speak, Barton held up a hand. With the other, he popped an electronic radio bud out of his ear. Dropping it to the sidewalk, Barton crushed the microbug under his foot.

He looked back at Erian with a smile. She was speechless, staring down at the crushed electronics. "You just . . ."

"Cut off SHIELD mid-order? Yeah."

Erian looked at him in confusion. "You're supposed to kill me."

Barton rolled his eyes. "We've been over this already. I don't want to kill you. I want to save you."

Erian drew in a quick breath. "I don't need saving, Barton."

He wrinkled his nose. "From what I've seen? Oh, yes you do."

She hit him with her shoes. "Thanks, Barton." Erian started walking again.

Barton caught up to her with a few quick steps. "You never did say if I could walk you home."

Erian threw her hands in the air, remembering just in time to hold on to her shoes. "Fine! Do whatever. I really don't care."

He walked her home.

Erian left him at the door, but by the time she'd climbed the stairs to her apartment, Barton was leaning on the window frame, waiting for her. She sighed and dropped her shoes to the floor. "Now what?"

Barton shrugged. "Nothing."

Erian glared at him. "I'm getting in the shower. Go away."

He shook his head. Erian sighed, and walked across the room to retrieve her nightgown from the dresser. "Fine. Whatever. Just stay out of the bathroom."

Barton tipped his head to one side. "Was that an invitation into the rest of your apartment?"

He was answered by the bathroom door slamming.

Barton wasn't there when Erian got out of the shower.


	7. Airplane 9

Airplane #9

Erian didn't see Barton at all the next evening. She walked to her apartment without incident, showered, and ate dinner, gratefully shedding her high-collared shirt and black skirt in favor of her blue nightgown. Barton didn't make an appearance.

Erian was a bit confused, but chose to accept it as a welcome break . . . except for a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that wondered, _What if something happened to him_?

All the better, Erian decided. Then he wouldn't bother her anymore.

Still, she sat down on the sofa to watch television, and didn't close the window despite the cold. Erian waited nearly an hour, and was beginning to really wonder if something had happened, when a paper airplane sailed through her window.

She caught it with a small smile, and unfolded it.

_Good night, Erian._

She waved at the window, and settled in to finish watching the movie on the TV.

Erian didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep until she woke up with a blanket wrapped around her and the window curtains swaying.

She blinked sleepily at the window, and realized that the TV was off, and the remote was sitting on the coffee table.

_Barton!_

Erian sighed, and moved from the sofa to her bed, snuggling in and going back to sleep.


	8. Airplane 10

Airplane #10

Erian began walking home with a smile on her face. At the end of the night's rehearsal, the director had clapped his hands together and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a show."

That had made her absurdly happy.

Erian walked not quite a block before Barton faded out of the darkness and began walking beside her. "Evening," he gretted her.

"Hello, Barton," Erian replied.

"My name is Clint, you know."

She glanced at him sideways. "No. I didn't know that."

Barton shrugged. "Good rehearsal?"

Erian didn't reply – didn't want to share the happy glow that rose inside her when she thought about how well she had performed. She didn't want Barton to ruin that for her.

He added, "What happened to your face?"

Erian gave him a scornful glance. "It's called stage makeup, genius. You obviously have no appreciation for the performing arts."

"What, and you do?"

She hesitated for a moment, wondering how much of herself to let Barton see.

_Hell with it. I don't even know how long he's been watching me. _

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do, Clint."

He smiled when Erian said his name, and he looked at her with those storm-colored eyes. She didn't look back, keeping her eyes fixed on the shadows below her feet. It was getting on towards winter, and walking barefoot was no longer as comfortable as it had been a few days ago.

As if in response to Erian's thoughts, she felt Barton settle his jacket over her shoulders. She tensed at the touch of his hand, and Barton pulled his hand back.

Erian felt her heart race in response to his touch, and she set her shoulders firmly, trying to ignore the sudden warmth. "I don't need this, Barton," she snapped, and yanked his jacket off her shoulders, thrusting it at him.

He took it silently, with something sad in his eyes. "So it's back to Barton now?" he asked. "I must have really screwed up, then."

Erian stalked down the sidewalk, focusing on not looking at him. "What do you want, Barton?" she snapped, and willed her breathing to settle.

Barton easily kept pace with her, adding to her irritation. He didn't speak for a few moments, then said suddenly, "You don't have to kill him."

It took Erian a second to understand. "What, you mean my mark? Of course I have to kill him. I took the money. It's a done deal."

He shook his head. "You could just leave."

Erian rolled her eyes. "And spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder? No thanks. Another life is nothing to me. You couldn't even see the new blood – my hands are permanently red."

Barton gave her a look she couldn't read, and answered, "You don't have to live like this. You could go somewhere you'd never have to look over your shoulder again."

Erian laughed. "Like SHIELD? How naïve do you think I am, Clint? I know those people. They cut their agents loose as soon as they get tired of them. I'd have to watch my back more than ever with them."

He shook his head. "I'd watch it for you."

She paused, and turned to look at Barton. Erian stared at him for a moment, lips slightly parted, and said in wonder, "You really mean that, don't you?" She shook her head, smiled, and started walking again.

"That's sweet, Clint, but I'm afraid it will never happen. And I have to get home and shower."

Barton nodded, spreading his hands in acquiesence. "All right. Just think about it."

He vanished into the shadows before Erian could respond, and she walked the last two blocks alone, smiling a little. Her, join SHIELD? As if. SHIELD had sent Barton to kill her. They'd never take her. And Erian would never join.

Somehow, the smile had faded away by the time she reached her apartment. Erian locked the door behind her and dropped her shoes to the floor with a sigh. She unpinned her hair as she crossed the room, and the swaying curtains caught her attention. Erian looked for Barton, but couldn't find him – however, there was a paper airplane resting on the coffee table.

Shaking her head, Erian unfolded thte plane to see the words _Just think about it _written there.

"Never happen!" she called softly, and headed for the shower.

**This isn't finished yet, obviously, and I'm still working on it. Bear with me, I'm getting there. I'm sure you can tell from the content of the story that my musical opens the day after tomorrow, and my own rehearsals inspired a lot of Erian's character.**

**Has anyone else noticed that my characters tend to have names ending in _n_? I don't know why that is.  
**

**Leave me a review to get me to update faster.  
**

**K.S.  
**


	9. Airplane 11

**Hi, everyone. I finished writing this at about one in the morning, because I sleep odd hours when I'm sick. I hope you like it.**

Airplane #11

Erian almost skipped her way down the sidewalk the next night, smiling brightly. She almost didn't notice when Barton began walking beside her.

She laughed when he asked, "Good day?", and Erian spun around, letting her hands fly out to the side. Barton had to duck to avoid getting clocked with her shoes.

Erian replied, "Wonderful day."

Barton smiled a little as he watched her, and said thoughtfully, "You really do love theatre, don't you?"

She blinked at him, surprised. "I . . . yes. Yes, I do."

His eyes brightened a bit. "Good for you." Erian looked at the ground, still smiling, and Barton asked, "Can I carry your shoes?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

Barton took the high-heels out of her hand, and Erian laughed at the sight of him carrying her shoes. He tilted his head to the side. "What?"

Erian smiled. "The shoes don't go with your aura of mystery."

"Accessories are the key to the outfit," he replied seriously, and Erian laughed, looking up at the sky as the clouds let go with a pouring rain.

She began to run, and Barton kept pace with her as Erian fled the rain. She caught a glimpse of his face as they passed a streetlight, and Erian caught her breath at the look in his eyes.

Barton turned his head to look at her, and she glanced away, unwilling to meet that storm-colored gaze. Erian bit her lip as the rain made her hair run down her shoulders, and wondered if her racing heart was only because of the running.

Erian entered the apartment building without Barton, but he was waiting at the window by the time she had locked her door. He set her shoes down on the floor, and Erian took pity on him, seeing him standing in on the fire escape in the rain.

"You want to come in and dry off?" she asked. Barton looked at her in surprise, then nodded, and swung himself in through the window.

"Thanks," Barton said, and Erian nodded, retrieving a towel from the bathroom. She tossed it to him, and Barton began drying his hair.

Erian began to make tea, and without thinking about it, set out another cup. But by the time she turned around, Barton was gone – the towel was sitting on the coffee table, next to a paper airplane.

She bit her lip, walked to the table, and unfolded the plane.

_Thanks, Erian. Break a leg tomorrow._

Erian shook her head a little, staring out the window that she never closed any more. "Why don't you ever say things like this in person?" she wondered, and sighed, picking up the towel and walking into the bathroom.


	10. Airplane 12

Airplane #12

Erian picked her way down the sidewalk, not laughing, not smiling, not even moving very fast. Her shoes dangled from her hand, her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and her eyes were hard and fierce.

She hadn't seen Barton yet, but a moment after Erian thought of him, a paper airplane flew towards her. She plucked it out of the air, pausing to read it.

_Guess I shouldn't have wished you good luck. Looks like it backfired._

"I'll say," Erian muttered as Barton appeared next to her. "If I have to wear these shoes again tomorrow I will snap an ankle, I swear.

Barton regarded her seriously, studying Erian's exhausted face and the way her eyes were a little too bright. He glanced down at her trembling hands, and Barton's jaw tightened slightly.

"What happened?" he asked.

Erian shook her head and muttered something that might have included the words _stupid understudy._ She took another step and winced as her foot met the ground; Erian blinked away the tears and gritted her teeth, preparing to take another agonizing step, and another after that.

Barton took the shoes out of her hand, and before Erian had a chance to wonder what he was doing, Barton scooped her into his arms and began to carry her down the sidewalk.

"_Barton!_"

"I like it better when you call me Clint."

Erian stared up at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Barton didn't look back at her, keeping his gaze fixed on where he was going. "Sparing your feet a walk they don't need."

Erian sputtered, "I – I –Barton – oh, _crap._"

And she rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. Barton smiled down at her, knowing full well Erian was falling asleep in his arms.

He carried her home, climbed the fire escape carrying her, and laid Erian on her bed. Barton hesitated, on the point of leaving, and finally bent over her to place a quick kiss on her forehead before bolting out the window.

Erian opened her eyes and stared after him, mind blank with shock.

_Barton just kissed me._

_ Oh my God, what do I do now?_


	11. Airplane 13

Airplane #13

Erian waited for him the next night, waited on the steps until Barton appeared. She didn't want to shorten their walk together, because she had a lot to ask him about.

He came quickly enough, announcing himself with a paper airplane that read, _Evening, Erian._ She smiled down at the paper, and when she looked up, Barton was there.

Erian began walking with him beside her, and asked softly, "Why'd you carry me last night?"

Barton shrugged, his face composed into a complete lack of expression. "Your feet were hurting. Which reminds me, how are they tonight?"

"Better, thanks." Erian hesitated, suddenly feeling shy. She'd waited all day to ask him why he'd kissed her, and now she couldn't bring herself to do it. Erian didn't want to scare him off.

_That's ridiculous. He's an assassin who's supposed to kill you. You'd be better off without him._

_ But I like him._

Erian found herself thinking of the age-old question of any child with a new pet – _Can I keep him?_

"Why are you smiling?" Barton asked, and Erian clapped a hand over her mouth.

_Shit! _"Just thinking."

"You should be careful about that. I've heard it can be dangerous."

Erian looked at him incredulously, and saw that Barton was smiling. She laughed, shaking her head a little. "You're unbelievable, Clint, you know that?"

Barton turned that smile on her, and Erian felt something panic inside her. "Yeah, I've heard that before." He eyed her shivering form, and added, "Will you snap at me again if I offer you my jacket?"

Erian shook her head shyly, and Barton gently settled his jacket over her shoulders. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and pulled the jacket front closed, marveling at the sudden warmth. "Thank you."

"No problem."

They walked a ways in silence, and Erian put her hands in the pockets of his jacket, enjoying the warmth. After a time, Barton asked, "Why do you walk home?"

Erian shrugged. "I don't have a car, and I never feel like calling a cab. I know it's not terribly practical, but . . . I like to look at the stars. I like to walk at night."

"I know the feeling," Barton replied softly, and Erian glanced at him without turning her head. She smiled a little at the look in his eyes.

They walked in silence back to her apartment. Erian fully expected Barton to be standing at her window when she closed the door, but he wasn't there. A pang of sadness ran through her, and Erian shook her head firmly to dispel it.

_I don't need him. Really, I don't._

She folded Barton's jacket and set it on the windowsill before taking her shower.


	12. Airplane 14

Airplane #14

Erian was halfway home before the paper airplane found her, and she swatted it aside, too angry to bother reading it. Barton dropped out of a tree in front of her, storm-colored eyes worried.

"Erian? What's wrong?"

She shook her head and kept walking, ignoring Barton as he walked beside her. "Erian?" he said again, and she whirled, smacking his arm, hard.

"Leave me alone, Clint!" Erian shouted, and stalked away down the sidewalk.

She expected him to come after her. She really, really did. But he didn't follow her, and Erian walked on alone.

Erian was still alone when she reached her apartment. She was still alone when she locked the door behind her, and when she kicked the door hard enough to make the wall shake. Erian was still alone when she collapsed on the sofa and covered her face in her hands.

Her understudy had started it, wearing Erian out and attacking her in almost every way possible. But what killed her was that Erian had really, truly thought that Barton would come after her.

Because when Erian was hurt, or scared, or didn't know what to do, she ran. She always had. And all she really wanted was for someone to follow her into the darkness, to chase her down and refuse to let her drown alone.

Erian closed her eyes and let the tears come.

It took her a while to realize that she was warmer than she should have been, and took her a while after that to understand that Barton was sitting beside her. Erian was wrapped up in his arms, her face buried in his chest, muffling her sobs in his shirt. One of his hands was gently stroking her hair.

Erian gasped for air, brown eyes wide. Barton gently kissed her forehead, lips soft against her skin. Erian closed her eyes and breathed, feeling another sob building in her throat. She hid her face in Barton's chest and he pulled her a little closer, cradling her against him.

She cried herself to sleep in Barton's arms, and he carried her across the room to lay her in her bed. He pulled the blankets over Erian's sleeping form, and watched her for a moment.

"No one told me the Ghostmaker was an enchantress," Barton said softly, and left.


	13. Airplane 15

Airplane #15

Erian took the precaution of bringing sneakers to her next rehearsal, and put them on before starting her walk home. A paper airplane faded out of the darkness ahead of her, and Erian took a few quick steps to catch it.

The airplane's message was _Nice shoes, _and she smiled, looking down at her austere collared shirt and black skirt, contrasting sharply with her battered sneakers. "Thanks, Clint."

Barton had somehow appeared next to her by the time she looked up, and Erian caught her breath, remembering how he had held her the night before. She wanted to ask him about it, wanted to know why – but Erian couldn't say the words. She couldn't risk chasing him away.

_How is it that the one thing good in my life is the man sent to kill me?_

Barton didn't say anything for quite a while as they walked together. When he did speak, his words took Erian by surprise. "You really don't have to kill him. Did you think about SHIELD at all?"

Erian looked at him curiously. "Yes, I did. And I don't think . . . I don't see how they would accept me. They sent you to kill me; they aren't just going to hand me a sign-up sheet."

Barton smiled a little, probably picturing that. "That's true. But there are some advantages to being one of SHIELD's favorites. And I don't think they'll hang me out to dry if I bring home a stray."

Erian stopped walking. Barton took a few more steps before realizing she'd stopped moving, and he had to back up to ask, "What did I say?"

"Bring home a stray?" Erian asked slowly. Her eyes were suddenly very bright, and Barton wondered if he'd offended the Ghostmaker for the last time as she exploded, "Agent Barton, I am not your pet. I am not a homeless waif in need of rescue."

In an instant, Erian pulled knives from inside her clothing and attacked him, fury in her eyes. Barton scrambled backwards, blocking her blades where he could and dodging for his life. Erian shouted, "I am not a stray for you to bring in from the cold! I am the Ghostmaker, and _I don't need you!_"

She pinned him, with his back to her front and her arm around his neck, the tip of a knife pressing against his jugular. "Agent Barton," Erian hissed, "I should kill you right now."

He didn't move, didn't react. Erian had half-expected him to fight back, half-expected him to run for it. She didn't know what she expected, but Barton had insulted her for the last time. Erian was no one's charity project. She was a killer, and would not be patronized.

"Fortunately for you, I believe in repaying my debts," Erian continued. "You can go. Don't come back, or I'll make a Ghost out of you."

She let him go. Barton turned around to look at her with knives in her hands and anger in her eyes, and Erian very nearly broke at the look on his face.

_How can anyone look so sad when I've just given him back his life?_

Barton said very quietly, "Good night, Erian." And before she could make a move to stop him, Barton was gone, leaving her alone.

Erian stood in the night for an eternity, hating the feel of the knives in her hands. She had lost the one thing that mattered to her, and why?

_Not for pride. Not even for anger. He has to respect me. He says he knows me, but I am no one's lost stray. I am myself, however I may be broken, and he has to respect that._

_ And so I sent him away._

_ Even though all I wanted was for him to look past the blades – and stay._


	14. Airplane 16

Airplane #16

By the time Erian had left her last rehearsal before opening night, she'd resigned herself to losing Barton.

_Don't be ridiculous. There was nothing to lose. He was only in my way._

_ Just wait until opening night, kill the mark, and go._

_ Just go._

Erian walked home alone, and caught herself wondering where her shadow had gone.

_Focus. Good riddance to him. I don't need him, or anyone else. I'm the Ghostmaker. I am fine._

_ I'm fine, right?_

Erian locked the door to her apartment behind her, and slowly to the window. She rested her hands on the frame, and looked out at the stars, faint and hard to see from the city lights. Erian closed her eyes.

_He's not coming. You know that. You ran him off._

_ And a good thing, too –_

_ I wanted him to stay._

Erian shook her head, hard, and reached up to close the window. She laid her hand on the window frame, and hesitated.

She walked away and left the window open.

When Erian got out of the shower, she walked to her bed, and froze. There was a paper airplane under the bed. Erian's heart skipped a beat as she picked it up and slowly unfolded it. Every part of her mind was screaming at her to hurry up, but her trembling fingers could only move slowly.

_Sorry._

Erian caught her breath, brown eyes distant. She couldn't remember now what she had done with the airplane he sent after they talked on the roof . . . the one that said _Sorry._

She didn't know if this was the same one, or if Barton was apologizing all over again.

Erian closed her eyes and made a soft sound in the back of her throat. The paper plane slipped through her fingers and hit the floor as she sank onto the bed, and turned out the light.


	15. Airplane 17

Airplane #17

Erian stood alone backstage, listening to the controlled chaos of opening night. She thought about the knives she wore concealed on her body, and her eyes darkened as her opposing lead said, "Erian? Can you take a look at this?"

She replied, "Sure." And walked toward the actor who didn't know he'd called Death into his dressing room.

He closed the door behind them, smiling at her as he gestured toward the jacket hanging on a chair. "That's the coat I'm supposed to wear when we do the balcony scene, but I can't find the invitation that should be in the pocket. Have you seen it?"

Yes, Erian had seen it. She'd taken it out of the jacket pocket only a half hour ago so that her mark would be forced to ask her if she'd seen it.

Erian never answered his question. She moved in an instant, drawing her knives and lunging forward –

With a faint whistling sound, an arrow ripped through Erian's sleeve and pinned her arm to the wall. She jerked to a stop, caught. Erian flung out her free hand and knocked out her wide-eyed mark – this wasn't meant for her target to see.

Barton dropped out of the rafters, bow held in his left hand. Erian gave him a tight, vicious smile. "Hello, Clint. Fancy meeting you here."

He didn't smile back. His eyes were dark and quiet as he replied, "You don't have to kill him."

Erian laughed. "On the contrary, I think I do. He's seen me."

Barton said softly, "You haven't kissed him yet."

There was a silence in which they stared at each other, Barton waiting in the middle of the room, Erian pinned to the wall by his arrow in her sleeve.

Finally, Erian looked down and smiled sadly. "All right, Clint," she whispered. "You win. I'll let him go."

"And?"

She didn't speak for a moment, and then added softly, "I'll come with you."

He let out a shaky breath, and closed his eyes for a moment. Erian watched curiously as Barton pulled himself together, and crossed the room to pull his arrow out of the wall, freeing her.

For a single wild moment, she wondered if she should run. But Barton's eyes were asking Erian to stay, and she couldn't bring herself to break him again.

She didn't run. Barton tucked his arrow away into his quiver, and Erian put away her knives. She watched him move as he pulled something out of his jacket, and Erian smiled with far too many emotions as he handed her a paper airplane.

She unfolded it slowly, afraid of what would come after this frozen moment, and read the message there.

_Thank you, Erian._

She didn't have to ask. Erian walked over to stand beside him, and stood on tiptoe to gently kiss Barton's cheek. He blinked down at her, and Erian whispered, "That was not the Ghostmaker's Kiss. Count yourself lucky."

Barton smiled, and Erian added, "I have to get some things from my apartment. Give me a few minutes?"

He nodded, and she left.


	16. Airplane 18

Airplane #18

Erian did consider vanishing, but only for a moment. For the very first time, she didn't want to go.

So she gathered her grey coat and over a dozen knives that she'd hidden around her apartment, and Erian climbed out the window, leaving the door locket. She climbed down the fire escape, and a paper airplane sailed toward her.

Erian caught and unfolded it, smiling as she read, _Ready?_

"Yeah." She answered, and Barton was there.

After a few steps of walking together, he asked, "Will you ever tell me why you killed Kirbee Barney?"

Erian shrugged. "Maybe someday. Maybe not. We have a long way to go."

Barton smiled. "That's for sure."

They vanished together into the darkness, leaving the eighteenth paper airplane behind on the sidewalk.

**And that's that.**

**Well, I write strange things when I'm sick, but I like it. If you like it, let me know - the review button isn't exactly hard to find. And it's the polite thing to do.**

**I realize a lot of people will be irritated with me for replacing the Black Widow, but hey - if you don't like it, why did you read this far?**

**Depending on how much people like this, (hint hint) I might revisit Erian in the future, assuming I find inspiration. For now, I have a vague idea for a story involving Captain America . . . **

**But right now I'm going back to bed to sleep off my cold.**

**K.S.**


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